Giving Out
by Artificial Starlight
Summary: In which Ivan dreams, Canada sings, Ukraine manipulates, and Prussia destroyes. A collection of stories centered before, after, and during the Giving In universe. RusCan, rated M.
1. Dreaming of Sunflowers

"I-Is this…"

"Oui."

"Can I…?"

A laugh, "Oui."

He needn't be told twice. With one hesitant step, then another, quicker one, until he was jogging, then running- sprinting- a laugh echoed, and it took a long moment for him to realize _he_ was the one laughing.

Quick breaths left him in pants, his boots crunched in dark, soft soil; he zigzagged, never staying on a single path, wanting to take in all of its beauty. All he could see was gold, all he could smell was Earth.

The gold touched him, brushing across his heavy jacket tenderly, caressing his face; they surrounded him in warmth.

He loved it.

He ran until his lungs told him to stop, and the end of this beautiful sea of gold hadn't come in sight. He fell to the rich earth below, trying not to hurt any of the green stalks that rose to the sky, asset with small suns.

He lay on his back, violet eyes seeing nothing but the golden flowers and the endless backdrop of the sky. A wind picked up, the flowers swayed and whispered to him. A smile could never leave his face as he listened- a _quietness_. It was so peaceful.

"Do you like it, Ivan?"

Gold, almost the same shade as the pedals around him, framed a soft face with slightly plump lips and bright mauve eyes. Wireframe glasses perched on the dainty nose were pushed up before the hands were stuffed inside the thick red hoodie. That smile on the boys face was caring, kind, _loving_ even.

"Da. Matvey, this is beautiful," he replied.

The boy came closer, sitting down beside Ivan leisurely, turning his face to the sky as well. "I'm glad. I would have brought you here sooner but they weren't ready yet."

"What do you mean?"

A tender smile, "This field isn't so pretty nine months of the year, you know? The temperature kills them."

Violet eyes widened in horror, turning to Matthew as if begging him that fact were not true, "They die?"

"Oui," he replied gravely, but in the next second, the Canadian reached across the man to retrieve a small seed that had fallen to the fertile soil. He held it up for the Russian to see. "It's okay though. See, they go into hibernation. Burying into the ground, waiting for the temperature to get just right- then this whole field is born again!"

Ivan stared at the tiny black seed barely the size of his fingernail, amazed at how such a small thing could wait out the harshness of winter only to get three months of life.

"If they can survive the weather, we can too, eh?"

A blond head leaned down to rest on Ivan's shoulder, the hand holding the sunflower seed closed in a gentle fist. "We'll make you one."

"What?"

He could feel Canada's smile. "You have a perfect gardening patch in your front yard, it's a shame to let it go to waste, eh?"

Ivan frowned. "I am not good at growing things, Matvey. I don't want them to die; it'd be my fault, da?"

"Non, I'll help you. Besides, you do too know how to grow things Mr. Kolkhoz."

"That's different," the man said petulantly.

Matthew just hummed, shifting slightly to get comfortable- until Ivan's arm wrapped around his shoulders and the Canadian molded against the man's side. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, peaceful and serene.

A light fluttering feeling in his chest made Ivan smile; he could recognize the feeling of happiness and it was always a result of being around Canada, he realized.

"I had a dream once," Ivan found himself whispering, as if afraid of breaking the tranquility of nature all around them, "Of lying in a field like this and falling asleep. I was warm and comfortable, safe and loved… I never thought it would come true."

A hand soothed across the coated chest, tracing his flank up to the collar bone, over the scarf to the Russian's cheek. A padded thumb brushed the skin there before lazily playing with the white hair next to his ear.

It started as a hum.

A soothing beat, slowly rising up and down in a peaceful melody- Ivan could feel the vibrations of Canada's chest as he made the sounds. Then there were whispered words, hardly heard over the wind.

"You are my sunshine," he sang, and Ivan could recognize the lyrics, captivated as he was by their words so long ago. "My only sunshine."

Russia never heard such a song sang directly to him before.

"You make me happy, when skies are grey."

Matthew was tender; from the hand in his hair, to the words from his mouth, radiating a calming aura that never failed to affect Ivan. The blue of the sky surrounded by gold was no longer the most enthralling scene in the world- instead; his violet eyes turned to the head full on hair tickling his chin, smelling the sweet shampoo coupled with maple and baked goods.

His eyes closed, his entire body relaxing into the ground beneath him, his mind completely focused on the feel of Canada around him, the lullaby Matthew sang so quietly. "You'll never know dear, how much I love you."

He felt the thumb caress his cheek again, so lovingly it threatened to choke him with such meaning behind it.

His wonderful Canada, how lucky he was to have such beauty. "Please don't take my sunshine away."


	2. Riot

"I don't even know what to say…"

The Nations, for once in such a very long time, had all their focus on _him_. And he had no idea what to say about _why_. "I-I um… I'm sorry, eh?"

"Kid," a rough voice answered. "Don't apologize. That was _awesome_!"

"Oh, shut up, Gilbert, you're not even a country, get the bloody hell out of the conference room!"

"I can be here if I want England!"

A polite cough, "considering what we are talking about, can we keep the arguing down to a minimum right now, please?"

"What, afraid birdie is gonna go psycho on our asses next, Japan?"

Canada opened his mouth, ready to make a statement that he really wasn't a _psycho_- that was just uncalled for.

Shockingly Greece stood up from his place beside Egypt at the end of the table- usually he was sleeping through the meetings. "I think it is a good thing- it proves that Canada is very passionate about this sport. A bit of a riot after a loss is not a bad thing, though the damage is not favorable. You can't really admonish these people- you're expected to be angry after losing a game- especially such an important one."

"U-um," Canada began, smiling slightly at the other nation. That was probably the most Matthew had ever heard Greece talk outside of actual business matters. "Thank yo-"

"Greece… You have a whole bunch of rioting going on in your country too, you can't really talk, buddy," Gilbert drawled.

"That's diff-"

"I think it is funny, Da?" Russia interrupted and two shades of violet eyes connected from across the table. "You felt very strongly about your team, Matvey."

England cleared his throat, "Yes, well, that does not excuse his actions afterwards. Such a mess- your behavior was not acceptable Matthew. You should know better."

Canada's shoulders slumped. "I am sorry, England."

"Damn, like a parent scolding a child. How long have you been independent again?"

"Gilbert, once more- shut the hell up and get out of the conference room!"

"Make me!"

An argument broke out between them and underneath all the yelling Russia leaned across the three feet of hard oak that separated him from Canada. Matthew leaned forward slightly to meet him halfway, mouth slightly turned in a frown.

"The game was fun, Matvey. Thank you for bringing me to see, Da?"

"Ah… well, I am sorry it didn't end very w-"

"It ended splendidly," Russia corrected, a sly, childish grin on his features. "After all, Amerika is so quiet now!"

Matthew groaned.

- Lol just a little drabble created after the Stanley Cup was lost. Vancouver Canucks vs Boston Bruins. Boston won- Vancouver rioted. Ha ha, I can just picture Canada going crazy. THIS is what Canadians riot about.

Going back to writing Giving In now. lol


	3. Booty Shorts

"Oh, come on Canada, hurry up!"

"Brother, leave him alone!" Ukraine replied, frowning up at the impatient Russian lazing against one of the dressing room walls.

"We've been here for an hour- you're not even looking for a good jacket anymore."

A growl form the changing room beside them was heard, "Not my fault!" A shuffle and a bump followed. "Kat," came a small whine of pity. "These are too short, I don't want them."

Katyusha merely grinned, bouncing on her feet, "Lemme see!"

Ivan rolled his eyes, thoroughly ready to get what they needed and go home. He didn't even want to come to this store, especially with his sister who just loved to shop. And he was forced to drag behind, wai-

Ivan's thought process simply stopped.

Because there was Matthew, leaning against the doorway to the changing room, with a slight pout on those thick lips. Golden waves framed his face, violet eyes large and expressive. A tight white jersey dedicated to a local hockey team on his chest and...

Some very tight denim shorts.

Ivan's own eyes widened at the sight, lowering in on the shapped round globes of flesh barely hidden in those shorts. The smooth pale skin, lean legs- the way Matthew posed against the doorway.

He didn't even know how sexy he was- proven when he whined to Katyusha about the "abomination" he was wearing.

Russia swallowed, his hands balling into fists- the strong urge to just pull the Canadian to him, trap him against the wall and just feel him. Kiss that pout, touch that hair, feel those legs wrap around his waist, and... he wanted to grab that ass.

"What do you think, Ivan?"

The sound of his name broke his concentration, and Ivan glanced up to see a confused, slightly concerned look pass Canada's face.

Russia wondered if he could rein in those overwhelming needs to show Matthew _exactly_ what he thought.

Then decided he didn't want to.

In two strides at the most, he swooped in for the unsuspecting Canadian, smirking at the light squeak the blonde made as he was lifted. He shut the changing room door behind him, locking it with a twist of his wrist.

Bright violets connected, one full of desire, the other full of excitement as the owner finally understood. "I-Ivan."

"Da, Matvey?"

"So you like them?"

"Da."

And their lips sealed.


	4. First Date

He couldn't be still. He just couldn't. He was so excited- and a bit nervous- but mostly excited. The package of gum-drops he had in his hands didn't help.

He needed the sugar though, as he felt like he burned through so much energy even as he sat in one place. After all, this was their first official date, and it just happened to involve a certain show Matthew loved- his very own Cirque Du Soleil.

He had bought ticket months in advance, made sure both he and his wonderful date had a whole week off to enjoy some much needed time together, Kumajiro was safe at home with a package of seal (he had given Matthew a _curfew_) and this was their first real outing as a couple.

It was going to be the best night ever.

With a large hand holding his own, a warm arm held against his chest, two pairs of footsteps falling into a synchronized beat- this was perfect.

"You do know we're being followed, da?"

Such a low timbre voice- smooth, comforting, dare he say sexy, even that accent; the way vowels slurred and the rough tones…

Wait…

"Quoi?"

Coming out of his little daydream, he turned to look up at his partner, violet eyes meeting a darker shade. Ivan tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering behind them suspiciously. "Your family is following us."

Matthew had a moment of silence to process exactly what that meant- Alfred... he could understand, his brother had not been completely accepting of this new relationship with his "most hated rival." Although, such a stupid act of following them, despite the good intentions, still struck a somewhat _violent_ cord deep within the Canadian.

He'd teach that disrespectful older brother of his a thing or two.

Arthur and Francis though? Why were they here?

England was not wholly _happy_ with them being together, but he hadn't yet tried such a tactic such as _meddling_. He was really surprised the man had come here, out of his entire family; Matthew thought Arthur was the most respectful, if more mature, than the others.

France was probably in it for the amusement- maybe he was hoping to see some action? Canada would sooner kick his beloved Papa in the vital regions than allow the pervert any chance at voyeurism.

A sudden deep chuckle broke his confused thoughts and Matthew refocused on Russia's face. "You are cute, дорогой. Do not worry, I can get rid of them, da?"

He was a second away from saying "make them scream," but then a loud voice called out overhead- an announcer of sorts, and an instant later he couldn't bring himself to care about his stalking family.

"Non, the show is about to start!" He jumped up and down with a bright grin, pulling Russia's arm in the direction of their seats.

Russia chuckled again- it wasn't a typical laugh like many had heard; that child-like giggle usually meant to scare others. It was a step away from true honest enjoyment; quiet and subdued as if he were afraid others would hear it and accuse him of being a big softy instead of the tough sadistic Nation he was reputed to be.

Mattie loved the sound of that laugh; like he loved the way Ivan looked at him, held him, and followed him. "We will not miss it, Matvey, slow down, da?"

Canada just continued hopping anxiously, looking around for the aisle holding their seats, though he was careful not to run into the other people moving through the stands.

When they found their places (close to the front where they could see everything) Matthew settled in beside Ivan with a grin. "I can't wait. This is going to be so awesome."

Russia smiled, leaning back in the chair to look at the stage. It was empty and somewhat dark at the moment, but that would soon change. People around them spoke in excited tones much like Matthew, and Ivan truly felt the atmosphere thicken with anticipation.

He could practically feel the Canadians' love for this sort of thing- much like Russia, the entertainment involving gymnastics and art was deeply set in Canada's culture. It was one of the many things they had in common, and they could talk for hours about the shows and plays they've seen.

Figure skating, theater, music, every winter sport imaginable-

It was nice to have someone to compete with; whether it was hockey (especially hockey) or any other sport, and if they were not pitting against each other, Ivan was thankful to have the Canadian rooting for his team beside him. Matthew… was amazing.

He put an arm around the back of the boy's seat, smiling at the Nation as Canada rambled excitedly about the stage set-up, pausing only once and a while to nibble on the candy Ivan had bought him from the front stands. "Those trampolines are my favorite, but the trapeze is thrilling, you know when you flip to the other one-"

"Damn _commie-_"

Matthew paused; mouth shutting and a slight thoughtful look overcome him. "You know… you'd think they would be more discreet…"

"It's America. That word isn't in his dictionary, da?"

"It's still rather rude. This is supposed to be a _date_, they're not invited."

Ivan leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the boy's cheek (and another yell from behind them was ignored). "We'll lose them on the way out to eat after this."

"Okay," Matthew agreed with a grin, pink tinting his cheeks slightly. However, no matter how embarrassed he was with such a public display of affection, he pressed closer to kiss Ivan back, and settled as close as he could despite the armrest between them. The building was kept at a low temperature, and he liked the pleasant warmth Russia emitted.

Soon enough, the lights dimmed, music played, and performers pranced onto the stage- the show began, and Ivan and Matthew settled to watch.

Unfortunately, not ten minutes through, something light hit the back of Ivan's head and he looked behind him for the source. He could hear sniggering somewhere above and he recognized the stupid laugh that belonged to Alfred F. Jones. With a growl, he decided to ignore it.

The second time something was thrown at him, it landed in his lap; a piece of popcorn, innocent and harmless- and yet Ivan's rage grew even more heated. Before another piece of it would be thrown he glared behind him, finding the American slumped in his seat. England, on the left stubbornly looked away, as if he took no part in it, France, on the other side, was giggling hysterically.

Alfred's deep blue eyes met violet, and the blond smirked triumphantly. With one hand in the bowl of popcorn in his lap, he lifted it to throw a piece. Ivan ducked slightly, just enough for it to miss- that pig was going to pay-

"Ivan? What's wrong?"

Matthew's eyes belayed such concern and Ivan's plan (to get up, stomp over to the stupid American, and beat him to a pulp in the middle of a circus show) halted in its tracks. He frowned deeply, recalling just how much this show meant to the Canadian.

He had the tickets months in advance, this show meant a lot to him, and he'd honored Russia greatly by having the man attend the opening show of the circus' new act with him. Ivan would not ruin it…

He forced himself to remain seated. "Nothing, Matvey, nevermind."

"You sure?"

A snigger behind them. Ivan's jaw tightened. "Da."

Ivan tried to concentrate on the performance- really, he did, but between the pieces of food being thrown at him and the difficult act of bottling his anger, he couldn't focus on the gymnasts on stage. The acrobatic feats, the synchronized flips and spins, the neat tricks with hula hoops and rings; all would have impressed him before, and he would have enjoyed the art of such things- but not now.

It took a minor slip-up from the American behind them to stop the charade. A small popcorn bit accidentally hit Matthew instead of the Russian. Canada squeaked in surprise, looking away from the stage for the first time since he'd asked Ivan if he was okay. The piece of popcorn in his lap was inspected with confusion, and then those mauve orbs glanced at Ivan's lap, where a multitude of others lay.

"W-what?"

Russia sighed. "Nothing, Matvey. Do not worry."

Canada frowned, and Ivan held back a wince- he hated that look; Matthew should have nothing but a smile on his face. This was supposed to be fun for the Canadian, and Russia had messed it up-

"That asshole." Russia shook his head, but Canada was already past a simple sense of comfort, he turned around in his seat so fast, Alfred didn't even have time to blink before a cardboard box full of uneaten gumdrops pelted him in the face.

"Ow! Mattie!"

"Shut it! Get the fuck out if you don't want to watch the show!" Canada hissed. He didn't want to interrupt the other spectators, but it was hard to hear over the music anyway. "You will _not_ speak, or so much as _move_ or I'll have to thrown out!"

"I'm just looking out for your virginity, bro!"

"You're too late!"

England choked into a fit of coughs, France laughed even harder than he had been, and America looked gob-smacked. "W-what? No! You just started dating him!"

Matthew glared, unwilling to answer that, turning in his seat to view the performance again. "Not the time to be having this conversation, Al. Seriously."

Ivan smirked.

The rest of the show passed somewhat peacefully, and as it ended Matthew and Ivan stood, feeling better than they had in a long while. Hand-in-hand, they strolled down the aisle, back to the building entrance where they served drinks and food.

They only stopped to replenish Matthew's lost box of candy and then continued to the front doors and eventually to the parking lot where they would climb into Matthew's jeep and eat at a decent restaurant _without_ the spies behind them.

"Mattie! Wait!"

Canada groaned in despair. "Can't I avoid the discussion?"

"Not unless we run," Ivan offered helpfully. He was willing to race to the jeep to escape the boy's nagging family.

"Or give them something else to freak out over."

Russia paused, casting a glance to the Canadian, only to be caught by a pair of lips on his own. Arms wound around his scarf-covered neck and Ivan leaned down the two inches needed to make it more comfortable. With his own arms tightly holding the blond around the waist he closed the distance between them.

"Oh, gross! I did _not _want to see that! Get your commie hands off my brother!"

"Shut up, Alfred, leave them be."

"Ah. Amour~"

Matthew pulled back with a smile. "_Now_ we can run."


	5. Don't Even 1

**Don't Even – Artificial Starlight**

"You did _not_ just break that…"

Alec looked up from the shattered remains of an elaborate vase to the blank face expression of his employer. The answer to that question was rather obvious, he was the only one around, and the loud _smash_ of ceramic on wood had been loud- it was safe to say he was the culprit."Uh… No. I didn't."

"You lying piece of-"

"Well why do you have such a stupid thing in the first place?"

"It's art!"

"It's _crap_!"

"I don't know why I hired you; you've been pretty _useless _so far." Dmitri growled, taking a calming puff of his cigar, forcefully turning on his heel as if he were showing restraint in ending the entire conversation there. "Clean it up," He called over his shoulder.

"I'm not a maid," Alec snapped, starting to follow the Russian- he made sure to crush the shards of ceramic under his booted feet as he walked too. Just to spite him.

They ended up in the living room, furnished with overstuffed antique looking sofas with a maroon fabric that stood out against the dark wood flooring and white wash walls. There was a fireplace in the corner, alit with happy flames and being attended to by one of the house-workers. The working man steadily remained silent, not even glancing their way as they bickered.

He didn't look familiar, but then again, since Alec had been hired by this wealthy individual (that turned out to be nothing more than a high maintenance _child_), he'd realized how many people were required to serve the Mihailov family. And Dmitri treated them all like worthless slaves- if it weren't for the pay, Alec was sure these people would happily tell the Russian to _fuck off _ and go on their merry way.

He contemplated doing the very same every day.

Dmitri looked over his shoulder at the man, an irate glare on his face. "So you don't clean, you can't cook, you laze around all day- despite your connections to the bastards on the streets what _are_ you good for?"

With an insulted scoff, Alec opened his mouth, intent on showing this spoilt brat just what he thought of that comment- after all, it wasn't like Dmitri was any good for anything either!

A shattering of glass interrupted his sentence before it started, and Alec's gaze immediately darted to the window on the left. A body jumped through the wooden frame, the flash of a gun in the intruder's hands was recognized in the second it took the form to aim it directly at Dmitri.

At the same time, the worker who had been stoking the fire turned, pulling a pistol from the front of his pants.

Dmitri froze, looking back and forth, golden eyes watching the barrel of both weapons aimed at his form with a blank expression. Slowly, both hands rose in a sign of surrender.

"Dmitri Mihailov." The man at the window stated. "Nice to finally meet you."

"Hard to say the same," Dmitri replied coolly.

"I knew your father before he died." Golden eyes narrowed in suspicion. "He took a lot of money from some very important and dangerous people."

"Would you be one of them?"

"Of course."

"Sorry, but I don't have any money for you." Dmitri sneered condescendingly.

"Take your feud with my father down to hell with him."

The man stepped forward threateningly, menacingly, the gun even closer to the Russian's head. "Don't test me kid, I don't have the patience. I know you've inherited his stolen fortune. That money doesn't belong to you, and unless you'd rather join your pathetic father, I suggest you give it back."

Dmitri's eyes glinted with a fierce anger. "Take it yourself."

The man growled, leaping forward, not with the gun but with his fist, burying it into the boy's gut, bending him over and sending him to the ground.

The man standing behind, who had posed as a house-maid, grinned in delight at seeing his employer on the floor, hoping his partner would take the opportunity to land a kick on the bastard.

Alec just about had the same train of thought- but he knew he couldn't let that happen- and while the two intruders were distracted, he retrieved his own pistol from the back of his pants. A singe gun-shot echoed within the large living room, and the spy within their midst fell without knowing what hit him.

In the next second, Dmitri's attacker spun around, gun held high. He pulled the trigger, sending another shot just above Alec's head as he ducked. Alec grabbed the outstretched arm, twisting it in his grasp and bringing the butt of the pistol down on the elbow's joint.

There was a scream of shock as the bone cracked, and the metal in his hand dropped to the floor with a clatter. Alec sent another strike, and elbow to the face, and the intruder fell back to the floor.

After that, it was relatively simple to send two bullets into the man's chest.

The whole engagement lasted but five seconds, and Alec hummed in disappointment. "You need better security, D. You should use that money you got to invest in some high quality video cameras." A booted foot kicked lazily at the dead man's leg, like a curious kid poking at a dead carcass with a stick. "Little worms like this getting in here and ruining my night pisses me off."

Dmitri sat up with a groan, glaring at Alec with hatred. "You let him hit me."

"Get over it, ya pussy."

"What the hell do I pay you for?"

"Saving your ass- which I just did. I think I'm fulfilling my duties rather well, huh?"

"Like hell you are!"

"Are you gonna cry over a little punch to the gut?"

"No!"

Alec snorted, a wry smile tilting his lips. He stepped over the dead man's legs to kneel in front of Dmitri. The hand that held the gun lifted, and the barrel slid just over his employer's cheek, tapping the skin teasingly. "Wise up, D." The smile left, replaced with a serious expression. "You're in a lot of shit, and you don't have mommy and daddy's protection- "

"That's why I hired _you_," Dmitri seethed. Alec paused, blinking in slight surprise. "You think I don't know how vulnerable I am? My father left me with nothing but enemies; our name is completely tarnished and I don't know how to fight. _You_ are supposed to be the guardian here and I trust you to do your fucking job!"

Alec shoved the Russian back, leaning over the prone body with a scowl. "Then _let_ me!"

Dmitri's golden eyes glared into dark brown, holding the determined stare, frozen in his spot- Alec towering over him, the arm braced over his chest holding him to the floor, the barrel of the gun was not pointed at him but aimed to the side of his ear. Heat from the piece could be felt and it made him nervous but… Alec, so far, had been the only person he could trust.

But he hadn't really trusted him lately.

"Fine…"

Alec nodded, "Good."

...oOo...

Dmitri knocked on the plain white door that belonged to his bodyguard. The one supposed to accompany him to the meeting in half an hour. He wondered if Alec was ready; it took him forever to tie a fucking tie- it was ridiculous.

The door opened quickly, and Dmitri crossed his arms to show his impatience- only to pause in slight surprise as the person within the room turned out to be someone… not Alec.

She was thin, with long brown wavy hair and blue eyes. She had freckles across her cheeks and she smiled somewhat deviously. Her attire looked too small for her- large breasts barely contained in the buttoned down shirt- the top buttons remaining undone so as to show a generous amount of cleavage. A blue denim short skirt and tacky red stilettos completed her outfit and gave away her occupation rather quickly- _whore_.

Dmitri scoffed, stepping out of the way. "Get out of here."

She nodded only turning around to wave in goodbye to the man inside the room. She sashayed down the hall, swinging her red purse happily.

Dmitri rolled his eyes, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "You have twenty minutes to get dressed, Alec. I will not be late because of you." He scrunched his nose in disgust. "And you must take a shower."

The man sitting against the headboard groaned, smoking his cigarette with a frown. "Damn it, more boring meetings? No fun at all."

"Da, no more fun for you- you're too loud and messy."

"You know you could join at any time."

"No thank you."

Alec snubbed out the cigarette in the tray next to the bed, sliding off the mattress and revealing his naked form. He gave a rather crooked smile that Dmitri assumed was supposed to be charming. "I mean it, D. I'm usually pretty straight, but you're not bad to look at, and I think you'd be fun to tie up."

Dmitri glared. "No."

Alec's smile remained and he stepped over to the Russian, assessing his form through the black suit he wore with interest, "Come on, D."

"Don't call me that-"

A strong arm wrapped around Dmitri's waist and golden eyes widened in shock as his guard _groped _his behind so familiarly. "Be my bitch. Just for one night, huh?"

"Y-you!"

"Then I'll return the favor and you can do whatever you want to me."

"Alec!" Dmitri hissed, feeling quite trapped between the wooden door behind and the solid body of his body-guard in front, especially as a mouth started to place wet kisses on his neck and that hand on his ass traveled lower to tease him through the slacks he wore. "This is not professional-"

"Fuck professional, I know you're not into all that anyway. You're such a little liar the way you dress up so classy, hanging around those business tycoons like you're one of them."

"I own this company, I am one of-" A gasp as Alec's hand crossed to the front of his pants, cupping his flaccid member, hand rubbing through the thick material.

And _damn it_, Dmitri was starting to react.

"What would you rather do today?" Alec asked huskily. "Go to that stuffy meeting and talk politics, or stay here and have the best sex you've had since you lost your virginity?"

The latter was, truthfully, starting to sound much more appealing.

...Thank You...

... I just wanted the chance to write some Alec and Dmitri interaction...


	6. Bloody Hands

"Get off," A rough guttural murmur, a dark command, but underneath the venomous words held a... desperation. "Get off, get _off_."

Water rushing out of the faucet sounded particularly loud in the small bathroom, and the steam from the hot water was thickening; it covered the large mirror completely in a fog, it left perspiration on his hovering face- but that moisture could also be a result of a nervous sweat. The water was burning, but the large Russian hunched over the sink only continued to glare at it, viciously scrubbing at his hands.

He snarled, unhappy with his results, turning to the cabinet next to the small toilet, wet hands- red from the heat of the water, the rough treatment of his scrubbing, and something else resembling blood- jerked open the small door, reaching in to snatch a wash cloth. He returned to the sink, using the rag to scrub at his hands even harder.

The water ran pink, and he scrubbed until it was clear.

And he continued to scour, still seeing spots of evidence, maybe only in his mind now, but he couldn't let them exist-

"_Ivan_..."

He paused, wondering if that voice was also in his head- joining the many other whisperings he could hear; insults, threats, warnings- things he swore not to listen to, but they tore him down, piece by piece anyway.

This voice was different though, as it was softer, more tender, and it held kindness- something none of the other voices carried. He glanced at the door, twisting the nob of the faucet to halt the flow of water- the silence was deafening.

He listened intently, wondering if he'd gone insane-

Scratch that, he didn't need to _wonder_, really, he knew how mental he was. However, hearing different voices like that was something even he was concerned about- he hoped to hear it again; to see if it was all in his subconscious...

Dropping the wet rag carelessly- he took small steps away from the sink. Standing at the doorway, he peaked into the small hotel room, focusing instantly on the bed and the small form under the covers. The bundle shifted, the facial expressions of the pale man contorting slightly, minuscule but noticeable. Russia stepped closer, looking over the prone form carefully- he was breathing, that was good, and it seemed smooth enough.

Hovering over the bed, he took a closer look at the boy's features, lifting a hand to move away a few strands of blond hair. Fingers stopped just a few inches above the forehead, hesitant. His hands were still wet, the skin rubbed raw from his treatment.

They were still stained. Still bloody. With _Matthew's _blood.

He couldn't touch him after that...

"Ivan."

His violet eyes snapped back to that pale face; Matthew's lips had definitely moved, and it was his voice, even if it was more of a whisper than usual (he could hardly hear it). "Da," He whispered back, though he didn't know what good it would do. Comfort him? That was _if _Matthew considered him a form of comfort. He could be just as afraid of him as everyone else, and why wouldn't he be?

A sigh- Ivan's hand retreated, and he carefully sat on the edge of the mattress, a good distance away from the Canadian, to watch over him as he slept. It didn't matter if Canada was afraid of him; after all this was over, they would go their separate ways- Matthew would go back to Canada, and... things will go back to normal.

Russia would get over it. He could let it go- he'd _have _to let Matthew go. He couldn't stay, it was dangerous. If Dmitri Mihailov hadn't gotten him, it would have only been a matter of time before Ivan did.

Because what was the difference between them?

His hands tightened into fists- so much blood on those hands. And he didn't want Matthew's on them, no matter what the reason.

...oOo...

Matthew smiled- stunningly beautiful, and soft lips brushed across the back of his hand before bringing it up to his cheek, holding it carefully to his face, like he _wanted_ those soiled, disgusting hands so close to him; like he treasured them.

"You're not incapable of protecting someone, Ivan. A part of me always knew that."

The Russian's hand moved hesitantly, rough knuckles brushing across Canada's cheek, a sense of wonder overcoming him as the boy leaned into the touch, unafraid- enjoying it even. There was nothing but care in those amethyst eyes, something Ivan had never seen directed his way; no pathetic sympathy or pity. They were sincere, holding a desire to simply be close to _him_.

Russia, the one people feared- and Canada wanted to be _with him_.

Ivan's hand, so much larger than Matthew's, continued around to the boy's face. That one stubborn curl of blond, as beautiful as it was, kept blocking those violet eyes, and Ivan pushed it aside, tucking it behind the Canadian's ear for the moment.

_Gorgeous._

So trusting, so... _loving_.

Ivan leaned closer, knowing that he couldn't let Matthew go now- he was too involved, too desperate to have this one piece of heaven beside him. He needed Canada.

He wasn't so strong as to continue through the rest of his unnatural life without a _single_ person to care for him. He needed something more- he needed something to ground him, to simply say he was... good enough. And Matthew had done so much more than that.

He was so afraid of hurting him and... afraid of _himself_, because it would be so easy- too easy- to destroy everything they had. Was he willing to risk it in order to have Matthew near to him?

Bright mauve eyes looked up at him, beseeching, and Russia wondered... Canada could be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Or the worst.

... Thank You...

Last one-shot I swear! It didn't take long to write, so don't freak out, XD Giving In's next chapter is now being completely focused on, promise.

I think the scene where Matthew kisses Ivan's hands is one of the best there is. It's probably my favorite part. Because I don't think I made it clear how much that sort of thing meant to Ivan. I wanted to rewrite this scene in Russia's point of view, to show it more. :)

Hope it got across ok. It's so bitter sweet, I could focus on it really hard and make myself cry from how Russia sees himself and this relationship. Gah, heartbreaking really!


	7. Merry Christmas

Family 1

"We're done! I can't do this anymore!"

"But Ivan-"

"Нет! It's exhausting, and annoying, and I don't like it."

There was a moment of silence- until it was broken with a giggle. "You look like a child, pouting like that."

Ivan's expression soured even more, his crossed arms tightening and his shoulders hunched up further. The glare he sent towards the laughing man next to him was not exactly scathing- he'd donned worst looks before to convey his anger, but this was more petulant- only proving Canada's statement.

Matthew smiled back, leaning over to press a short kiss on the man's cheek, his arms snaking around the broad shoulders, forcing them to relax. "Why don't you like it, Ivan? It's festive."

"Da, but does your family have to be involved in everything?"

Matthew tilted his head quizzically. "Well, it's usually tradition to decorate for Christmas as a family, and Alfred loves doing the lights. He tries to make them better every year. I just let him go with it, much easier than to argue." He smiled. "He usually does a good job."

Ivan sighed, exasperated. Still, he relaxed a bit- though it looked like he admitted defeat, rather than agreed on anything. His hand came up to rest on the Canadian's lower back, pulling him closer to feel the warm chest against his own. "I thought I was going to spend the time with you, instead I am arguing with the capitalist fatty."

"Hey! Shut it commie!" Alfred's loud voice broke through the relaxing atmosphere, and Ivan groaned like he was in physical pain, hiding his face into Canada's neck. "And get your hands off my brother! Chasity, Mattie, remember? _Chasity_!"

Matthew just laughed, amused by it all. Sure, the relationship between Russia and America was always rocky- they were so competitive, and it didn't help that they were so stubborn and opinionated. However, Canada felt that they had more in common than they realized- with a little push in the right direction, and a common goal, they could actually get along rather well.

So far, the common goal was to make Matthew happy; and forcing the two to consequently spend so much time together pushed and pulled on their nerves. They hadn't spent so much time together since the World War, and it was slow going for them to see how much had changed since then.

Matthew thought they were doing rather well. Arthur looked miffed at first, skeptical, suspicious, worried- he was actually the most dangerous of his three relatives; as a common wealth Nation, Canada was still rather influenced by England. Had he wanted, Arthur could have made this relationship between Ivan and Matthew a very rocky, unstable one.

Fortunately, he was also the most complacent one; a long and challenging interrogation with his father figure was all it took for the man to understand how serious the Canadian was about this. Once England saw his conviction and understood the fact that Canada... wanted this more than anything, his resistance lessened tremendously. He shook Ivan's hand, smiled, made a thinly veiled threat of what should happen if Russia hurt Matthew, and then promptly invited him to a family Christmas party.

Canada was surprised how well the two understood each other- Ivan seemed to respect Arthur a little more after that, it seemed.

France was a bit harder to convince. He was shocked out of his wits at first- completely misunderstood the situation and ranted about Canada throwing away his Country to most literally 'become one' with the land of Russia...

He was incredibly unsure at first, concerned over his 'son' and his future and "_My, the sex must be brutal, you poor thing!_"

… It's a good thing England was there to punch him in his dirty mouth before it got out of hand. Although... Russia seemed to find the entire thing hilarious.

Well, despite how much France would deny it, he usually followed England on these matters, so winning Arthur's approval really earned Francis' as well.

The only one left was America, and Canada felt he had to be handled differently. If Alfred did not approve, it would make things rough, and Matthew was half-convinced that his brother's paranoia would hinder his acceptance.

He took the news rather well. It certainly helped that Russia had proven his feelings held true a few months ago- the whole Magadan fiasco and the way Ivan put himself at risk to save Canada... Alfred grudgingly acknowledged the fact that Ivan cared for Matthew- and he had the power, ability, and determination to keep him safe and happy.

All that was left was simply... getting used to each other.

Matthew grinned, "Chasity, Al?" Pulling away from Ivan's form slightly, he pulled something from the pocket in his hoodie, holding it up cheerfully. Everyone followed the movement with their eyes, curiously looking at the small leafy-green object above Canada's head. A piece of Mistletoe... "How is this for chasity?"

And then he shoved Ivan over, delighting in the surprised yelp it garnered as he straddled the Russian, sealing their lips together feverishly. Alfred's shocked yells of how he was 'scarred for life' and 'Why Mattie, _why_!' were ignored- Ivan's hot palms griping his hips, the thumbs peaking under the hoodie and shirt to the skin beneath. That mouth returned Canada's actions with vigor.

As Matthew disconnected their lips for air, he whispered breathlessly, "We'll have plenty of time to be alone, Ivan. All I want for Christmas is you."

...Family 2...

Ivan's side of the family was vastly different. Canada was easily accepted by Ukraine and the Baltic's- Katyusha literally cried in happiness and proceeded to suffocate Matthew and Ivan with her ...assets.

Lithuania was nice enough to welcome him with a hug, and at a family get-together-dinner, they both cooked for the family; although... really, both of them were so soft-spoken and apologized for everything so often, Ivan said they were nearly identical when they started to stutter like that.

Latvia... Canada wouldn't really hope to bond with the boy so soon; he was nice, but he was so scared of everything. For some reason he feared _Matthew_ as well- and for such a scared Nation, he sure stated blunt opinions rather easily. "_W-what scary kind of p-person would marry R-russia?_"

And then Russia laughed in that creepy way and Latvia tripped, and Estonia shouted the younger's name as if the small boy was about to die...

Canada didn't really understand but he was very unused to people running away from _him_ in fear... At least they didn't forget who they were running from...

Last but not least... Belarus.

Canada could take a page out of Russia's book and run like the hounds of hell were chasing at his heels every time he even heard her name. _She_ was far scarier than Russia would ever be in his opinion.

She was violent, unpredictable, and bi-polar. One second she was dignified and polite, the next- a knife, a scream, and a mantra of "marry, marry, marry" …

It was _Scary_!

Yet... Canada tried to get along, she was Ivan's sister after all. So even if his knees wobbled, his hands shook- and he looked like a certain Latvian, he attempted to give a smile, and tried to talk to her.

Matthew could vaguely see that she was trying to do the same. With gritted teeth, she asked customary 'how are you' questions and would attempt to chat. It wouldn't last long, but Canada felt that each meeting went a little bit better than the last.

Ivan was proud of her, and he didn't instinctively try to run away anymore (although... was that for Matthew's sake? Or did he actually not feel so afraid anymore? Who knew).

...Change...

"What do you think, little Matvey?" Ukraine asked, turning around in front of the mirror, hands held up to give him a better look of the suit she had chosen to try on. She had needed a few new ones for the World Meetings in a few days time, and thinking she could use more than one opinion, Canada and Belarus were dragged along with her- Matthew really didn't mind.

"It looks nice, Kat," He replied from the little bench in front of the women's dressing rooms. "It's a good piece." He stood, getting a closer look at the white, long sleeved blouse. "It would go good with a jacket, eh? If we could find one that matches the skirt, it would be perfect! It's usually pretty cold at Sweden's place anyway, so you should definitely bring one."

"You think it's ok to wear a skirt then?"

Matthew hummed. "It's not very short, and it's a thick material. Besides, you're rather good with cold; you should be fine if that's what you want."

"Ah, you're right! I just don't usually wear many skirts..." It wasn't very practical for working in the fields.

Canada smiled, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to look closer at herself in the full length mirror. "Look at that, you look stunning, if you wore skirts more often, there wouldn't be any blood left in those perverts bodies."

She giggled at the image. "Perhaps it would make for a quieter, more productive meeting?"

Matthew snorted, pulling away with a shake of his head. "No way- they'd be too busy fighting over you, chère. And then Ivan would have to beat them off with his pipe, and I'd go Hockey-Crazy; worst meeting ever- on second thought, you might just save us from the sanity and stop showing off those legs of yours."

Ukraine laughed again, "I'll keep that in mind, Matvey!"

The quiet sound of a door opening caught their attention and they both turned to the new arrival emerging from one of the changing rooms. Natalia stepped calmly out to the public, wearing a regular dress- dark blue, as was normal for her- reaching to her calves, and a pair of stockings covering the rest, accented with a pair of black high heels. She looked into the mirror, pushing a few locks of hair over her shoulder to better see the white trim around the dress' neckline.

Even with a blank face, it seemed like she accepted the look, and she turned, about to return to the dressing rooms to remove the dress- only to put one of the many just like it back on.

"Natalia," Matthew called. She stopped to send him an unreadable look. He swallowed thickly, wondering why he had to open his mouth in the first place. "Um..." He glanced to the right, looking for something that had caught his eye before- a red cloth.

He snatched it from the bench he had sat on previous, holding it up. It looked more like a sweater, but it was longer, meant to be a dress rather than a shirt. The neckline was folded over, like a loose turtle-neck, with thermal lines in the thick cotton; like the hem at the bottom and over the cuffs at the end of the sleeves.

"I think... this would look good on you," He stated meekly. "And you don't wear many colors other than blue and black. Something brighter might be a good chan-"

"Vanya does not like red."

Canada frowned. "He doesn't mind it that much. And just because he doesn't like a color doesn't mean you shouldn't wear it." She looked unconvinced- actually that blank expression was turning more to a perpetual annoyance. "I wear red," He commented dryly.

"It is too short." She replied, obviously ignoring his statement.

"Not really- just to your knees. You may have to take off the stockings."

Katyusha squeaked, and Natalia glared- Canada paused, confused; _what did he say?_

Ukraine shook her head. "Natalia, maybe you could just try it on?" Belarus looked at her as if she were crazy. "It is a very pretty dress. Please, sister? Just once?"

"I..." Natalia looked confused, lost, something Canada had never seen before. She seemed to go through many ideas and excuses- anything to get out of this predicament. Until she shut her mouth with an audible click and the familiar expression of hatred filled her features. She snatched the dress out of Canada's hands violently, stomping back to the dressing rooms.

The next few moments were spent in thick silence. A snarl from the room was not understood, as Matthew still had not learned the complete Russian language- but he could guess as to what the woman said and he tucked his arms around him for warmth and comfort. _Maybe this wasn't a good idea..._

When Belarus opened the door, a sigh was heard, and she walked out with a guarded, still angry expression. Canada glanced up to see how she looked.

She was stunning. That was one thing; the pale skin contrasted nicely with the bright red in a way dark colors didn't- it gave it a healthy glow. And that almost white hair, like a gentle waterfall over the cotton, bringing it out even more. Even her blue eyes looked brighter, cold as they were. The sweater was form-fitting, bringing out her curves nicely- a perfect hour-glass shape, stretching over her thighs to...

Her legs...

They were bare for one- Canada had never seen her without the stockings before, and he'd always thought it was to ward off the cold.

There were scars- much like the ones around Ivan's neck. Like she had been tangled in barbed wire...

He took a deep breath, forcing his eyes back up to meet her glaring features, noticing her hands clench at her side and the way she looked prepared for anything. Canada forced a smile, "I was right, you look good in red too."

She sniffed, looking away from him, down to the floor, then- slowly, like she was afraid to- she looked at the mirror. Matthew hesitantly stepped forward. "Maybe with a sash around your waist, or a scarf, something black to match your shoes- it looks nice, Natalia, really."

"It's different," She said coldly.

"Change can be good sometimes..."

From the reflection in the mirror, she caught his eyes. Her lips turned down in a frown. "Maybe... If I am not impressing my brother anymore... It never worked anyway..."

Matthew swallowed, glancing away- almost... guilty for being a reason her life's goal had been so drastically changed. "Um... right. So instead of focusing on how Ivan would have liked you... think about what _you_ like. You don't have to wear black, blue, or white just because those are his favorite colors."

She remained silent for a long while. "I do like red... and green. Like my flag."

Matthew smiled softly, nodding. "And... what else? Do you like your hair being long? Would you cut it?"

"No... But I don't like it down all the time," She said, and her voice was so quiet, as if she was unsure about admitting these things.

Canada brought his hands up, closer to the soft strands of her hair. "May I?" And when she hesitantly nodded, once again meeting his eyes through the mirror, he gently ran his fingers through the threads of white.

There were very few tangles, and he did his best not to pull anything as he pulled the hair off the woman's neck, up to the top of her head. He used a hair-tie from his jeans pocket to gather the long hair into a chic but messy bun. It was no longer touching her shoulders, but a few strands along with her bangs framed her face beautifully. It showed her smooth jawline, her thin elegant neck, and the soft skin of her collarbone.

Ukraine stepped up, holding a black scarf in hand. Canada thanked her, turning around to see Belarus from the front, and instead of wrapping the scarf around her neck, he crossed it around her waist, tying it loosely and letting the knot fall to her hip. Katyusha found a black bracelet and rather charming earrings that stood out wonderfully with Natalia's hair put up like it was.

When they were done, Natalia looked completely different, and yet she remained so gorgeous, Canada had to laugh. "Ivan's got his work cut out for him protecting both of you from the rest of the world, eh?"

"Do you like it, sister?" Katyusha asked.

Natalia simply stared at the mirror, turning around to see the new look from other angles. She nodded slowly, speaking softly. "I want my stockings though..."

"We'll get you the thigh-high ones then." Matthew nodded, smiling as she turned to him questioningly.

"Do I really look good in this?"

"You really do."

For a moment, Matthew could have sworn she had blushed at that.

An hour later, both Ukraine and Belarus were walking out of the store with new purchases- and in a certain bag; a particularly striking red dress peeked through.

...Turn Me On...

_My body needs a hero_

_Come and save me_

"Ivan," Matthew called, having to shout particularly loud to be heard over the music, he leaned over, bracing a hand on the Russian's right shoulder, he let his chin rest on the man's arm, looking up into a sparkling multi-colored pair of eyes. Violet hues, with speckles of red-wines and grays.

Thin lips lifted in a small smile as Russia hummed curiously, paying instant attention to the Canadian at his side. Matthew smiled, so very happy at that moment. "Thank you for taking me out."

"Da," The man chirped. "We have been working hard; we can leave the office for a while."

"It was getting pretty stuffy in there."

Ivan nodded, using his free arm to lift his glass of iced vodka to his lips, tipping it back and swallowing the small taste gracefully. Canada's eyes glanced to the man's lips, the glistening remains of alcohol on them making them shine- it was enticing.

Without thought, Canada straightened up, lifting a hand to Russia's jawline, guiding the man's face to him easily. Ivan put up no resistance, even if he was obviously a bit confused at first. Canada's lips parted, and he placed a small kiss to the corner of Ivan's mouth, then closer to his goal. His tongue flicked out just to taste, and then he captured the bottom lip between his, grazing it with his teeth, tugging gently.

_Something tells me you know how to save me_

_I've been feeling real low_

_Oh, I need you to come and rescue me_

Ivan gave a small moan that nobody but Matthew could hear, and it sent shivers down his spine. Russia definitely approved.

He kissed back, parting his lips, taking control- something Matthew didn't mind as that tongue invaded his mouth and all he could taste was vodka and spice.

"I think you have had too much to drink, da?" Russia whispered, his voice deepening with a certain desire.

"Non," Matthew replied, leaning forward, nuzzling his way into the man's neck, enjoying the slight hitch in the man's breathing as he placed a kiss to the usually hidden patch of scarred skin. "I'm sober, but... vodka just _does_ something to me, eh? It makes me want you."

"Who am I to complain?" Hands roamed the Canadian's hips, wrapping around to the firm behind, gripping the bottom firmly, and pulling the blond closer. He tilted his head, brushing his lips over the blonde's ear. "Let's leave then, and I will correct this problem with vodka..."

_Make me come alive_

_Come on and turn me on_

_Touch me, save my life_

_Come on and turn me on_

_I'm too young to die_

_Come on and turn me on_

Canada grinned, leaning back, showing the devilish expression. "Oui, but first... let's dance." With a soft and gentle hand, the Canadian began to pull at Russia's arm, pulling him from the bar's stool and closer to the dance floor in the middle of the large room.

Ivan may have complained in any other situation, after all, he wasn't much of a dancer even if he was not bad at it, however, Canada's eyes entranced him, and he found himself following anyway.

He would follow the blond straight off a cliff as long as he gave him that look- the look that suggested they were about to do something without clothes, and it would certainly involve heavy pants and moans and hot white heat of pleasure most likely lasting all night.

_Boy, I'm achin', make it right_

_My temperature is super high_

_If I scream, if I cry_

_It's only cause I feel alive_

And suddenly, Canada was so close, and the hands fluttering across his chest in an almost shy fashion, turned sneaky- slithering down Russia's chest, pressing just hard enough to feel the defined muscle underneath the shirt- over the pectorals, across the abdominal, to the belt of his worn jeans. The faded white shirt was not tucked in, and those hands had rather easy access; they slipped under the fabric, trailing back up the way they came, up the sides of Ivan's torso.

They pulled the Russian closer, and their chests touched- for a moment, Matthew's entire body pressed close, and the heat, the friction that was directed towards the more southern part of Ivan's anatomy, ripped from him a surprised gasp.

And then the boy pulled away, swaying his hips, bending his back- those hands remained on his skin, and they seemed to anchor him, for he returned to the same place he was before, slinking up to press a heat kiss on Ivan's neck, stating a breathless "touch me."

And after that, Ivan's hands were hardly standing still, especially as Matthew twirled to the beat, brushing across him teasingly, turning his back to the Russian and pressing against him, letting out a delicious moan of appreciation as Ivan bit into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

His hips were pulled back until the firm behind rested against something hard and Matthew's breath faltered as he pressed closer, twisting his head to look at the man who held him so intimately, wanting nothing more than to feel all of him. To be surrounded in that warmth- to have him all over- to smell of vodka and spices, and feel sore for days; to have the markings that screamed he was taken.

"Car," he gasped, shivering at the nip placed at his neck. "Home, bed- now."

And they stumbled out of the club, probably looking very humorous to the many passerby and other occupants of the bar- hands continuing to grope, mouths already leaving more visible blemishes- breathing becoming even more uneven and needy.

When they arrived at the parked Porsche, Ivan barely sat down in the seat, closing the door and locking them as he put the keys in the ignition before he had a lap-full of Canadian. The man's thighs tightened around his lap, and with a rough grind down on the Russian, all protests of actually _starting_ the car and driving to the safety of their house, floated away as if they never existed.

There wasn't much room between his body and the steering wheel- proven when he forced the blond back as to take a pink nipple into his mouth- the loud blaring of his own horn stopped that action with a frown, and his right hand dropped to the side of his seat, pulling the lever found there.

The whole seat tilted back, Matthew sprawled on top, and Ivan smirked, taking the moment of surprise to his advantage...

...Maple!...

"Seriously, dude, come on!"

"Gilbert, s-stop it! Don't tease me like tha- _ah_!"

"Keseses, you should see your face right now, you _really_ want it, don't ya?"

"Jerk! Give it to me!"

"I will in just a second, damn it, just..." There was a sudden loud moan of pleasure. "Oh, yeah."

"Gil- no! Don't be so mean, please!"

"So good!"

"_Prussia_!"

An opening of the door gave pause to the two men's conversation, and Matthew turned to see Ivan's large form, leaning against the wooden frame with a raise eyebrow and a skeptical, disbelieving look.

Gilbert grinned at the new arrival. One hand was a bit preoccupied with holding Matthew an arms-length away, as it seemed like the Canadian wanted to tackle him. The other hand had a bottle of maple syrup, the cap open.

"Yo, Ivan. Breakfast is served, the awesome me came to crash it." And then he tilted his head back, tipping the maple bottle until the sugary sweet molasses dribbled into his mouth.

Canada had only spared a beautiful smile along with a chipper 'good morning' to his Russian lover before turning around to glare at Prussia. "Stop eating it all! Breakfast will _not_ be served if I'm out of Maple!"

The Prussian simply moaned, like he tasted the most delicious substance on earth and when he straightened himself with a swallow and laughed evilly. "No way, the awesome me owns this bottle now, it's mine."

Russia smirked, rather amused at the pitiful whine that resulted from the Canadian. "Prussia," He said- as funny and as cute as it was, Ivan felt he should warn the albino.

"Oh, look, it's all gone! Oops!"

Ivan paused, shaking his head. _Too late_.

"Y-you ate it all?" A moment of unfathomable silence, until finally there was a screech of rage, and a frying pan was flying and Prussia was yelping, backing up to hit the counters- barely missing the thrown object and staring at the Canadian with wide eyes. "Kumasabi." The polar bear lying underneath the kitchen table stood up at attention, recognizing the tense tones used and the underlying hint of a command he'd follow.

Matthew's bright mauve eyes narrowed, targeting the Prussian across from him- determined and rage-full. "Get him."

And Gilbert screamed, running across the kitchen, passed a blank-faced Ivan, with a white furry blur at his heels. Russia blinked, calmly leaving the door's entryway and closer to the seething Canadian, wrapping a soothing arm around the blonde's waist. "We will go get more, da? Plenty more."

"And they will be put away in a _locked_ pantry where no idiots can get to them."

"Da," Ivan agreed easily- after all, no matter how difficult or over-the-top such a thing would seem- the alternative (a rarely seen, slightly less sane side of Canada) was worse.

Above the kitchen sink was a window, and the form of Prussia was seen desperately trying to get away from the house- a polar bear managed to trip him, and teeth latched onto the faded jeans just below the buttocks. Gilbert's panicked scream was very amusing, as well at the sight of the jeans ripping, and Kumajirou's ferocious demolishing of the pants as well as the white boxers underneath.

Until Prussia was covering his exposed vital regions with his hands and hissing at the cold of the snow and scrambling to his feet, dashing away as the polar bear attacked the abandoned clothes.

All the while the blond in his arms grinned rather wickedly.

_Yes, the alternative is much worse_.

...Conference...

Ivan was so bored. Seriously, undeniably, bored.

This conference was so long- they'd been in this one room for six hours already, with only a fifteen minute restroom break (because Italy whined and begged to have one). Fifteen minutes was not long enough to grab anything to eat, it was not long enough to do anything related to resting, and they worked passed lunch. Now it was three in the afternoon, he was hungry, and they _still_ got nothing productive done.

These meetings were an astounding waste of time.

He leaned back in the uncomfortable seat, sighing. Greece was talking now, and while he was not one of the most annoying voices to listen to it was rather monotone and if given enough time, could probably put the Russian to sleep.

Bored.

The pen in his hand spun around his fingers in a lackadaisical fashion... he wondered if the ditzy Poland could catch it if he threw it. If not, then at least he would be saved from having to listen to his stupid gossip. Really, every Nation within a twelve seat radius could hear the blond talking (obviously not paying attention to the speech at the front of the room), and Ivan did _not_ care whether Sealand had a crush on Liechtenstein.

"Ok, why don't we have one more fifteen minute break, pizza will be arriving shortly, courtesy of the Italy brothers. We'll eat, and then go over the statistics one more time."

He with held another sigh, standing from the chair and stretching to feel his joints pop. He decided that he could at least walk around for a bit; perhaps grab a drink from the vending machines he saw outside the room.

He began to make his way to the doors, intending on doing just that when something golden flashed from the corner of his eye and he paused in his step, turning to the source of his fixation with a tired expression.

Canada frowned, meeting him half-way to the exit. "Ivan, are you ok?"

"Da." He motioned to the direction he was heading and Canada followed him curiously. Outside the doors, it was much quieter, and the atmosphere was not as tense. Turning the corner, he found the vending machines in an abandoned alcove, humming lowly. "Do you want anything, Matvey?"

"Um, sure, a soda, s'il vous plaît."

Russia picked two regular cokes, giving one to the Canadian, and slowly opening his own, turning around to lean against the machine lazily- not bothering to hide how bored he was or the exhausted expression on his face.

Canada leaned against the wall next to him, understanding perfectly well how Ivan was feeling as he held the same look. "When is your flight back?" He asked, a little saddened, after all, Ivan would probably leave not long after the meeting, and Matthew had hoped to spend some relaxing time with the other.

"Tomorrow evening." Russia seemed to think the same, as he frowned disappointingly. "Depending on whether this meeting lasts until it gets dark, would you like to have dinner?"

"Oui, but can we just get room service? I really just want to lock myself in a room, bar the door, and turn off my phone, as well as hide anything that has to do with this meeting for at least a week."

Ivan chuckled, "Da. That sounds very good." Straightening from his position, he stepped closer to Matthew, sliding an arm around the shorter man's shoulders and pulling him forward. His face burrowed into golden locks, soft against his face. The sweet smell of maple and baking soothed him- it was a smell of home, and the warmth pleasantly calmed him.

They stayed like that for a short while, leaning against each other and taking some form of relaxing energy; when the break period ended and they reluctantly parted, it was with higher spirits. The rest of the meetings wore on in the same fashion but it seemed to go slightly quicker than before as he had something to look forward to afterwards.

At long last, the final speech wrapped up, and the Nations were dismissed. Russia spared a quick, meaningful farewell to his sisters before finding Canada among the doors, waiting patiently for him.

Kumajirou lifted a paw in a short wave, looking as if he just woke up. "Who?"

"Russia." Ivan replied, patting the animal on his head softly before taking one of Matthew's free hands and leading the way out of the room.

Ivan lead him to the hotel he was booked in, although Canada already knew where he'd been staying, as he visited the Nation's temporary quarters the first day of the meetings. The room had been cleaned since he'd been gone. The bed made, trash taken out, and a nice pine-scent in the air.

Their briefcases were sat down by the door, shoes taken off, and jackets placed on the back of a chair. Canada jumped onto the soft bed with a happy sound. "Finally! I've been traumatized!"

Ivan huffed. "It was rather horrifying, da? We'll have to do this whole thing again next month-"

Matthew protested in a muffled groan.

"And we still won't get things done."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Russia smirked, amused. He sat down on the other side of the bed, leaning back on a pillow, staring at the Canadian like he was a great source of entertainment. The bed shifted as another weight was added and Kumajirou strolled up to the top of the bed, in between the two nations, and prodding Canada's head with a thick paw. "Sleep now?"

Matthew looked up, an adorable pout on his face. "It's eight thirty here, but in Montreal, it's only one."

"You have been awake for a long time though, da?" Russia said.

"Oui, so have you... what time is it in Moscow?"

"Almost midnight."

Kumajirou looked back and forth, from Canada to Russia, a begging expression on the white furred face. "Food, then sleep?"

Canada laughed, sitting up on the bed properly. "You just had pizza two hours ago."

"Two hours, long time."

Russia hummed, closing his eyes as he reclined back onto the pillows. "Sleeping sounds good, da~"

Kumajirou perked up, crawling the rest of the way up the bed and onto the Russian's chest, flopping down with an approving growl, and curling up to get comfortable. Ivan's hand came up to scratch behind a fuzzy ear and the bear seemed to purr.

Matthew smiled, watching the scene unfold with a bit of amusement and honest awe-a type of serenity between them as they gathered close. Canada shifted closer to Russia, giggling as Ivan used his free arm to bring the blond tighter against his side and his bicep was a good place to lay the Canadian's head. Kumajirou lifted his head up to give a soft lick to the man's forehead- a 'goodnight' gesture.

All three were warm, happy, content in the soothing silence. They gave in to their exhaustion, falling into a peaceful slumber.

...Bath Time...

"_It's just for a short while, I promise._"

"_I can't take him to this, he would not be happy._"

"_He'll be easy to take care of._"

"Such a lie, Matvey." Russia growled under his breath. He grunted, glaring down at the white form he had in his hands. "Be still!"

"Do not want!"

"I do not care!" Another splash and Ivan snarled as his coat got soaked- already he was covered in soapy water, from his wet hair to his clinging beige jacket and scarf. "You _will_ be taking a bath, Kumajirou!"

"Why?"

"Because you're covered in flour and eggs!"

"I wanted pancakes!"

"You should have asked!" Ivan growled. "You made such a mess, how you expected to get everything together to cook them, I have no idea." He was not in the mood for fighting with the animal. He was probably going to spend the next two hours cleaning the kitchen. Flour was everywhere; broken eggs littered the floor and _maple syrup_, which was delicious and precious to the Canadian, but _sticky and hard to clean up as hell_... All... Over...

Matthew was going to flip out when he finds out a whole bottle of maple was wasted...

Another wave of water hit him, and Russia snapped. "I'll hold you under the water myself if you don't stop splashing around, da?"

"No!"

"Da! You will not like me then!"

"Meanie! I'll tell whats-his-face!"

"Go ahead, but you will be clean when you do!"

"You're stupid!"

Ivan suddenly smiled childishly, a vast difference from the ugly glare he'd had on before- and this showed he was even angrier. The next second, he shoved the Bear's head under the tub's waterline (which was a lot lower than it was before, as half the basin's water had spilled out of the containment and was now all over the floor and Ivan himself). A soft gurgling sound answered him and the animal thrashed around, throwing out even more water.

Ivan hummed, actually having trouble keeping the polar bear down- these animals were naturally at least four times stronger than regular man (even if Kumajirou was more of a cub in appearance) but this animal was even stronger, like the Nations that represented their lands. Kumajirou was just as strong as Canada even.

Russia wasn't trying to hurt the animal, so after a few seconds of holding the Bear's head underwater he let him up, still smiling as the animal snarled. "I told you, da?"

"Your face! I will claw it!"

"Oh, that's a mean thing to say. Do you want to go swimming again?" An angry roar was all that answered him, and Ivan rolled his eyes, reaching for the special shampoo used on the animal. He poured a good amount on the white hair, growling himself as the bear tried to shake it off. "You will get no food if you do not cooperate!"

Unfortunately, the only time that type of persuasion doesn't work is when Kumajirou was taking a bath. "Good! I hate your food! No bath!"

"Then you starve, da?" With one hand keeping a firm grip on the back of the Bear's neck, he put the bottle of soap down and began scrubbing the cleaning substance into the fur. Teeth bared, Kumajirou tried to take a snap at the man's hand and received a sharp smack to the snout in return. "You do not bite Russia!"

"Do not want!"

"Shut up!"

This continued... the entire time. The insults, the threats, the little acts of revenge like the splashes of water, a nip of teeth, a smack, a dunk into the water- until Kumajirou was done, looking like a weak drowned rat, glaring pitifully at the Russian.

And the towel wrapped around him, ruffling his hair up in weird places and causing him to growl even more. "We're done! Let go!"

"You will not track water all over the house."

And so for another ten minutes Ivan went through at least four towels trying to mop up all the water, grumbling in bitter Russian as he did so. Then he suddenly gained another childish grin as an idea came to mind. He opened the cabinets under the sink and pulled out a hair dryer, plugging it in. "This will make it go much faster, da?"

"What?"

Ivan set it to the highest setting, pointed it at the disgruntled bear, and turned it on full blast. Kumajirou blinked, backing up in shock before growling and snapping at the air rushing towards him. "Bad!" He said, continuing to bite at nothing.

Russia chuckled. "Da! Very bad."

When Canada returned he was surprised at the amount of... silence. The house was strangely quiet, and he set his bags down at the door, looking around suspiciously. There was a background noise of talking and music from the television in the living room, and he slowly walked towards it, confused and unsure of what to expect.

The first thing he saw was Ivan, leaning back on the couch with a laptop over his thighs, feet propped up on the coffee table. He looked over at the Canadian, greeting him with a childish grin and an entirely too cheerful "Welcome home, Matvey!"

"Bonsoir, Ivan. How was your day?"

"Wonderful as could be expected, da!"

A grumbling from right next to the Russian caught Matthew's attention and he glanced over- recognizing the gruff noise of his polar bear companion. And then he snorted inelegantly, bringing a hand up to cover the sudden need to burst out laughing- because Kumajirou was so... poofy. Like a huge white ball of static! The only things recognizable were the two black eyes, looking at him rather pitifully.

"K-Kumajama w-" A snickering. "What ha-happened to you?"

Russia grinned, entirely too happy and childish- it should be impossible for such a man to look so innocent. "He got into a fight with a hair-dryer, da? And he lost!"

...oOo...

Ivan sighed in a sleepy frustration, rolling over in the bed to look at the clock on his nightstand. 4:30 Am. Damn it, at this rate he might as well get up to face the day. A little less than an hour ago, he awoke from a deep slumber for seemingly no reason at all, and then he couldn't get back to sleep no matter which way he tossed and turned.

Turning to his right side, facing more towards the middle of the bed, he let sleepy eyes roam the warm figure resting there. Matthew was in a peaceful sleep, breathing evenly with a serene face- probably having a lovely dream if that hint of a smile was any indication. The blond was close; a hand had reached forward to take hold of Ivan's shirt, keeping the fabric in a weak grip. It was usually one of the only reasons Ivan ever wore a shirt to bed. Canada was always reaching for him in his sleep, not necessarily to snuggle to, but to keep near- much like he did with Kumajirou; he was able to grip something, fur, fabric, anything.

It was adorable, and Ivan smiled one of his rare, happy and soothing smiles, lifting a hand from underneath the thick blankets to comb his fingers through golden strands of hair. So soft, so beautiful.

Moon light shined through the window, covering the boy's fair skin in a light glow. He brushed a thumb across the Canadian's cheek, feather light. His skin was blemish free, soft- he touched the pair of lips- silky smooth, and they parted slightly at the touch, as if even in Matthew's sleep, he enjoyed the action.

Russia leaned forward, unable to stop himself from pressing a kiss there. It was chaste and innocent- he didn't mean anything but to feel the soft lips against his own. He shifted to press another soft kiss on the cheek, then on the forehead. Tenderly and protectively, he wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, burrowing his nose into the wavy locks of hair, breathing in- taking in the unique smell of Canada.

He really didn't want to move, even if he couldn't get back to sleep, and would have to suffer another two hours before the alarm clock would signal it's time to wake. He had no other wish than to stay where he was, surrounding the Canadian, knowing he had something so very special in his arms. In his bed, in his life, and in his heart.

To know Canada was his- to kiss and love and protect. His alone.

And then the center of his universe, the source of his will and power and sole purpose of living like he did, shifted in his hold- the most amazing color of violet opening to give him a warm, trusting look. Matthew smiled, tilting his head to kiss Ivan's jawline, wiggling even closer to Russia's chest, humming in contentment, and just as he was about to fall back to sleep, a whispered "Je t'aime" left those soft lips.

Russia's heart skipped a beat and he smiled, nuzzling into the golden hair softly. "Я буду всегда любить тебя." (_I will always love you_)

...oOo...

"Ivan..."

Russia glanced up from his laptop, humming curiously. He paused in his typing, tilting his head slightly in confusion at the sight of his lover. Canada stood in the doorway of his study, leaning against the doorway with a... familiar smirk on his lips. Like he was planning something deviously. Russia was unsure if it would result in his favor or not. "Da, Matvey?"

"I have a Christmas gift for you."

Ivan blinked, wondering what it could be- true, it was Christmas Eve in Russia now- January 6th, and it was nice to show Canada his version of the holiday, after all, he spent Christmas in the North America with his blond lover in December. All the _real_ presents were exchanged then, as Russia's Christmas was more of a celebration on the winter, with fasting and a final ending dinner to honor the apostles.

Nonetheless, he was sort of happy to hear Matthew had a present for him, and he stood from his desk, striding over to the Canadian, obediently following the man out of the study and down the hall.

In front of their bedroom, Kumajirou sat, as if guarding the door- funny thing though; he wore a reindeer headband and a large red button nose tied to his snout. Russia chuckled, leaning down to pat the Bear's head.

"What is going on Matv-"

The door to the room was pushed open, and he paused in mid-sentence to stare in surprise. Candles were placed on many surfaces, emitting a warm golden glow, and the fireplace in the corner quietly roared with burning firewood.

Stepping inside, he realized there were rose petals on the floor, on the bed, everywhere...

And in front of the lit fireplace there was a red blanket, with two glasses and a bottle of champagne.

Astounded, he stood there, feeling a creeping blush rise on his cheeks. He would admit, he was not a romantic individual- there were times he made a great dinner for his Canadian lover, a nice outing, a date, a seductive night- but truthfully, he'd never gone as far as to set up the atmosphere like this._ When did Canada have the time to do this?_

And he felt like _he_ was the one being wooed, and like a shy woman he blushed and sputtered because it was shocking and _effective_ and sweet. Arms wound around his shoulders and Canada looked up at him with a soft smile. "Do you like it?"

"Da, Matvey, you did this... why?"

"Because, I wanted you to relax mon cheri- you don't need to work on a day like this. This evening should be a nice one."

"I'm sure it would have been," Ivan mumbled, looking embarrassed. And Canada finally had to laugh, because he didn't see Russia blush often and it was adorable.

"You are so handsome, Ivan. Come, let's sit down, eh?"

"D-da."

The fireplace was warm, but the blond leaning against this side was like fire, and he didn't even complain about drinking champagne- it was nothing like his vodka- because it suit the mood and left a pleasant taste in his mouth.

When he grew more comfortable with the strange romantical evening and the fact that he was essentially being treated as the "woman" in the relationship with how Canada filled his glass and such... He was having a good time.

They talked casually, cuddled under a blanket, stared into the fire, placed teasing kisses and touches- and Canada finally straightened with a smile. "Stay here; I'll go get your present."

Russia nodded, smiling slightly as he took another sip of the bubbly spirit in his flute glass. Leaning back to comfortably enjoy the fire's heat.

It took about five minutes, and Ivan turned curiously to the closet where Matthew had disappeared, wondering what was taking so long.

The door opened slowly, and Ivan's jaw dropped for the second time that day. For Matthew was standing rather seductively with a hand on his velvet covered hip- a short, tight, revealing red dress on his form, with furry white trimmings and candy-cane stripped stockings...

And a bow around his waist, which he pointed to with a raised eyebrow and said, "Merry Christmas, Vanya... come open your gift."

...MERRY CHRISTMAS...

...ALBINONIAL...

XD For the Secret Santa in our Group! I was going to do a one-shot for you, but then it turned into many different drabbles of random stuff. I don't even know but I'm sorry~ Ha ha!

I hope you like it! Merry Christmas! You're the best!~


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